


Broken and Shattered

by Jessica_Bones_Winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dark Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_Bones_Winchester/pseuds/Jessica_Bones_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Season 2. When no demon will deal with Dean to bring Sam back from the dead, he becomes bent on revenge. (Dean/OFC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Five years,” Dean said. “Five years and my bill comes due.”

The woman with red eyes stared at him from a few feet away. This particular crossroad was virtually abandoned. No cars or buildings in sight for miles.

“You could offer me your soul now, and the answer would still be no,” the demon said. “We don’t want you, Dean. Sammy was our golden boy.”

“So bring him back… make the deal.”

“Don’t you think if we wanted him that badly we would bring him back without a deal? We don’t need him. He was our first choice, I admit, but he was weak. He lost.”

“Fine. I’ll find another demon.”

“No demon will deal. John was a catch. Sam was the one we really wanted… You? You’re useless and pathetic. But, have fun trying.”

The demon vanished before Dean’s eyes. For three days, Dean tried every crossroad he could find. No demon would deal with him, but one let it slip why they didn’t care that Sam was dead. They had a man named Jake. He had special abilities, like Sam had. Jake was the one who killed Sam by stabbing him in the back and slicing through his spinal cord.

Dean finally found the strength to bury his brother. He refused to burn him. He was determined to get Sam back. If the demons wouldn’t deal, he’d change his plan.

Kill Jake.

“I promise, Sammy,” he said as he shoveled dirt back into the grave, covering the wooden box inside. “I’ll get that son-of-a-bitch.”

In one year, Dean lost his dad and his brother. His family was gone. Taken by the yellow-eyed demon, in one way or another. The same demon responsible for his mom’s death. All Dean could think about was revenge. First on Jake, for killing Sam, then on yellow-eyes, for everything bad in his life.

Bobby was there when Sam died. He ran after Jake, but couldn’t catch him. Dean pushed him away. Bobby wanted to bury Sam and move on, but Dean couldn’t do that.

Bobby went home, initially just trying to give Dean some space and time to grieve. Dean ignored several phone calls from him days later. When Dean finally listened to the voicemails, it was too late. Bobby and Ellen had information about the yellow-eyed demon’s plan. He was opening a Hell gate to let out an army of demons. Jake would be there.

Dean missed it.

Bobby, Ellen, and Jo… the closest thing to family he had left… all gone. They had tried to stop it and failed.

Dean was alone. The one thing he had always feared most in his life. Completely alone.

For the first few weeks, he drove. His eyes constantly glanced at the empty passenger seat where his brother once sat, navigating and driving him nuts. He crossed the country several times, summoning and trapping demons, looking for Jake. The demons were less than forthcoming.

Except for one. Ruby.

Caught in Dean’s devil’s trap, she spit out everything she knew, hoping to get out without being sent back to Hell.

“I can help you,” she said.

“The only help I want from you is Jake’s location.”

“I can give you so much more than that.”

“Why would you.”

“You don’t get it. I want to help you. I’m not like them. I clawed my way out of Hell. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Oh, you’re not like them?”

“No.”

“Prove it.”

Ruby paused for a moment. “My jeans… back waist band.”

Dean held up the knife he had found there. “You mean this?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a knife. So?”

“So, that knife can kill demons.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Check out the inscriptions. It’s true.”

“Okay… let’s say I believe you about the knife. Where’s Jake?”

“Detroit. Azazel has him laying low in Detroit.”

“Azazel?”

“Yellow-eyes. He does have a name.”

Dean stared at her. His gaze eventually fell to the knife in his hand, examining the blade.

“Why Detroit?”

“It’s temporary,” she said. “They’re waiting for something.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve told you what I know.”

“Everything?” Dean walked closer to her.

“Everything I know.”

“Then there’s one more thing you can help me with.”

“What’s that?”

Dean rammed the knife into Ruby’s gut. She gasped, and her body spasmed as an orange light flickered from inside of her. When Dean pulled the knife out, she fell to the ground.

“Now I believe you,” he whispered.

Dean made his way to Detroit. If Jake was laying low there, he would be blending in. He was also likely protected by demons, also blending in. Dean would have to do the same. They would expect him to check into a motel. They would expect him to burst into Detroit, guns blazing, looking for Jake. He would have to hang back. He found a small apartment building just outside of the city. Just three apartments. Dean liked that. There would be fewer people to deal with.

He had one more problem. His car. It was too obvious. The demons knew his black 1967 Chevy Impala. He drove back to Bobby’s and found a car that still worked. A fixer-upper, but drivable. He got his weapons cache transferred from the Impala to his new white 1973 Mustang, and drove back to Detroit.

He stayed in his apartment the next few days, setting it up with protective symbols, just in case he was discovered. And he drank. A lot.

The apartment was no more than a large room. A small kitchen area in one corner, and a bathroom in another. A couple of small closets provided some storage. Dean brought a cot over from Bobby’s, along with a small table and a chair. He wasn’t concerned too much with comfort any more. He had what he needed.

When his apartment was done, he worked on the Mustang. He spent two days giving it a complete overhaul. On day two, as he tilted his head back to drain what was left of his beer, he saw a face peering down at him from a window in one of the other apartments. The one next to his. The face belonged to a woman. Brunette. She smiled down at him when they made eye contact. Dean looked away and put his attention back on his car.

He started cleaning up as the sun set. A quick glance back up to the window and he saw that the girl was gone. He briefly wondered how long she stood there watching him, but the thought didn’t linger. He had more important things to think about. He still had to find an abandoned building to hold his demon interrogations. That wouldn’t be too hard in Detroit, but location would matter. It couldn’t be too close to his apartment.

Back inside, he walked past the mail boxes and the one apartment on the first floor, and headed for the stairs. As he went up, he looked through the railing to his left. His neighbor’s door. He hoped she would mind her own business and let him keep to himself. That was all he wanted. That, and revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean grabbed his keys, pulled on his leather jacket, and made it to the door before he paused with his hand on the knob. He looked down at his jacket. His father's jacket. The jacket that was honestly too big for him. The jacket that would get him recognized very quickly by a demon. He had to change his patterns, his behaviors, and his appearance as much as possible to blend in. He shrugged the heavy jacket from his shoulders and neatly folded it, placing it on his chair. He would find a place to put it away later. He dug through Sam's old duffel and found a grey hoodie. He pulled it on, hood down, and made his way out the door.

At the bottom of the stairs, his path was blocked by the young woman from the window. She was standing in front of the mailboxes holding three full bags of groceries, trying to get her key into her mailbox.

"You need some help?" Dean asked.

She jumped, slightly startled at the sound of his voice. "Yes, please."

Dean, still standing on the bottom step, took two of her grocery bags and held them while she unlocked her box to grab her mail. She shoved the mail into the bag she still held and opened her arms to take the other bags back.

"I've got it from here," she said.

"You sure?" He placed the bags back into her arms, making sure she had them firmly before letting go.

"Yeah... Thanks."

She stepped aside to let Dean off of the stairs. He looked at the ground as he walked past her and headed for the door.

"Hey..." he heard her say. He turned around to see her smiling back at him with one foot on the stairs. "Welcome to the building."

Dean gave her a slight nod and walked out to his car. He drove through the city, checking out the area. He scouted small stores he could slip in and out of without being noticed when he needed food or supplies. He decided the city itself was not the ideal place to hold his interrogations. He drove on through, to a more rural area outside of the city. The longer he drove, the more buildings he found, but these were on a main road. He eventually turned off and took a few back roads. Finally, he found a place he could use. He marked the location on a map. He would swing by tomorrow and check out the inside. It was getting late, and he was hungry.

Dean stopped at a small roadside diner before he got back into the city. While he ate, he wondered about the knife he got from Ruby. It could kill a demon. He saw that with his own eyes. Could it hurt them without killing them? It would make a great interrogation tool if it could. He made a mental note to try that on the next demon he captured.

He still carried the Colt; the only weapon in the world that could kill the yellow-eyed demon, Azazel. Dean didn't like that name. Having a name made the demon seem more human. It definitely wasn't human. Dean would call him yellow-eyes, as he had always done. If he ever ran across yellow-eyes, the Colt was ready. He had to be certain of the shot, though. He had one bullet left. One. Emotion couldn't get in the way when the time came to kill yellow-eyes.

After dinner, Dean went back to his apartment and drank himself to sleep. A whiskey-induced slumber that numbed the pain just enough to slow his thoughts so he could rest. Sometimes. Some nights were filled with nightmares, even through the alcohol, of Sam getting killed. Over and over. He would wake up drenched in sweat, only to drink a little more and fall back to sleep.

The next morning he slept in, unable to pull himself from under the whiskey. As he slowly awoke around noon, he realized he would have less time at the warehouse. He quickly dressed and made his way to the car without any interruptions.

The warehouse looked like it had been unused for some time. He could park his car at the back of the building whenever he was inside. There was an entrance there. There were lots of office areas that were the perfect size for what he needed to do. He found one that had a good view of the road. That was where he set up a devil's trap and every protective symbol he could think of. He went through the rest of the building and placed devil's traps at every entrance except the one he would use at the back. It would be his one blind spot, but he needed a way to get the demons in, or out, if need be.

It began to get dark, and Dean finished the last of his symbols by flashlight. He would get a lamp. The kind used for camping. It would help make things easier than just using a flashlight.

Dean pulled up to his apartment building after dark. As he walked through the door, into the foyer, he heard banging and yelling. His instincts kicked in and he quickly took two stairs at a time. A man was pounding on his neighbor's door, shouting to be let in. The words 'bitch' and 'slut' hung in the air.

"Hey!" Dean called out. "There's no reason for that."

"What do you know?"

"I know I want some peace and quiet and you pounding and yelling isn't helping."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Her neighbor."

"Oh, really?" A sort of angry smile pulled at his lips and he began his pounding again, even harder. "You screwing this guy? Huh?" He yelled through the door. He pulled furiously at the door knob, trying to open it. Dean assumed it wasn't his first attempt.

Dean knew the girl was home. He saw a light on from outside. He calmly walked over to the man and grabbed him by the back of his jacket. The man tried to take a swing at Dean, but Dean anticipated it. He let the man go, leaned out of the way, then let his fist connect with the man's nose. As the man stumbled, Dean shoved him toward the stairs.

"Leave."

He stumbled down the stairs. Before he left, he turned and smirked at Dean. He would likely be back. Not tonight, but he would be back.

When Dean looked up he saw the girl's face in a small crack in the door.

"He's gone," Dean said.

"You didn't have to do that," she said as she opened the door, "but thank you."

"You're welcome."

Dean noticed that the girl's face was streaked with tears. He mentally sighed. He didn't want to get involved, but how could he walk away from this? His whole life he had been helping people. This girl obviously needed help."

"Did he hurt you?" he asked.

"No... not this time."

"But he has before?" When she simply nodded, Dean continued. "Have you gone to the police?"

"Repeatedly. They can't do anything without proof, and I never have any."

"Will you be okay?"

"Thanks to you," she said with a small smile. "Goodnight."

Dean nodded and the girl closed the door. Dean stared down the stairwell, wondering how many times that bastard hurt her. He wouldn't do it again. Not as long as Dean was there to stop it.


	3. Chapter 3

Part of Dean wasn't ready. He knew this would be a long road. Thousands of demons escaped when the Hell gate was opened, and many probably didn't even know about Jake or yellow-eyes. He would have to sift his way through them, hoping to find one who knew something. Anything.

Ready or not, he went to the warehouse the next day. The paint was dry. He did a final run through, making sure he hadn't missed anything. When he was comfortable with his work, he performed the spell and a demon appeared in the devil's trap.

"Oh, crap," the demon exhaled, taking in his situation.

"'Oh, crap' is right," Dean said. "We're gonna have a little talk."

"About what?"

"Azazel."

"Az- Who?"

"You trying to tell me you don't know Azazel?"

"I'm not trying... that's what I'm saying. I don't know Azazel."

"Now, why don't I believe you?" Dean held the knife so that it was in plain sight. The demon's eyes went to it and widened. Dean followed his gaze and smiled, holding up the knife. "You recognize this?"

"Yeah. And I know the last person who had it."

"Who?"

"Ruby."

"Score one for black-eyes," Dean said sarcastically. "Tell me something I don't know." The demon tightened his mouth, as if refusing to speak. "Oooh," Dean said with a smile, "you think I don't know what this knife can do? Ask me," he said, moving closer to the edge of the trap. "Go ahead... ask me. Ask me!"

He sliced across the demon's stomach. Not deep, but enough to hopefully cause pain. He was rewarded by a scream and grunting as the demon clutched at the wound, which flickered with an orange light, just as Ruby had done.

"Don't wanna ask me? Fine. Maybe you should ask Ruby." The demon glanced up at Dean with an almost hopeful look on his face. So close to hope, in fact, that it made Dean laugh. "Oh wait," Dean said, "you can't. I killed her."

"I'll tell you whatever I can, but I don't know Azazel. Never heard of him."

"What about Jake?"

"Who?"

"Jake! The bastard who killed my brother!"

"Who in the hell is your brother?"

"Sam Winchester!"

Their voices had grown louder with each response, but now the room was silent. The demon blinked, eyes wide.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said softy. "You know that name, don't you?"

"Every demon in existence knows the name Sam Winchester."

"Why?"

"He was supposed to be our savior. He was going to lead an army of demons to victory over the earth. At least, that was the story."

"Whose army?"

"I don't know. I always assumed it was his own army. He's dead?"

The demon looked sad, which made Dean even angrier. "So sorry for your loss," he said just before he jammed the knife into the demon.

It screamed. The orange light flickered. The demon fell dead to the ground.

Dean dragged the body to a large closet. He would pile them all there until he was done. After he had his revenge he would burn the entire place down. The whole warehouse. It was far enough away that no other buildings would be damaged and the owners likely had insurance.

He went home to a bottle of whiskey. His anger was so hot that he knew he wouldn't get anywhere with another demon that night. He tried again the next day. He summoned three demons, one after the other. They knew absolutely nothing. The routine went on for nearly two weeks. All he kept getting were grunt demons who had no idea who Jake or Azazel were.

Then he got careless. He hadn't closely checked the trap since the day he first summoned a demon.

The demon he summoned this night was cocky and smart. Dean's anger was rising fast and he turned his back to collect himself.

Mistake.

The demon escaped the trap and threw himself at Dean. They hit the floor and the knife was knocked from Dean's hand, out of his reach. Dean inched his way over to it as he tried to fight off the demon, who definitely had the upper hand in strength. Fists sailed through the air until Dean finally laid his hands on the blade. He quickly grabbed it, flipped it around, cutting his own hand in the process, and stabbed the demon. The weight of the dead body fell on top of him, and he barely had the strength to push it off, but he found it in himself to do what he had to. The body joined the growing pile in the closet and he drove back to his apartment.

With the adrenaline wearing off, and the pain setting in, Dean stumbled up the stairs. He fell down a few of them, landing on his back. The noise caused the girl to emerge from her apartment. She slowly opened the door. When she saw Dean through the railing, she gasped and ran to help him.

"I think you need a doctor."

"No hospitals."

"But you-"

"No... no hospitals."

"Okay."

She helped him to his feet and put his arm around her shoulder to help support his weight as they went up the rest of the stairs. When they made it to the landing, Dean leaned toward his apartment, but she was able to pull him toward hers instead. He was in no mood to argue.

She got him inside and locked the door before laying him onto the sofa.

"Do you think anything is broken?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he grunted.

She quickly examined his face. Dean winced as she touched a cut by his eye and his busted bottom lip.

"I've got some pain killers in the kitchen," she said.

"I've got some whiskey in my apartment."

"I think the pain killers will work better."

"I doubt it."

"I'll get your whiskey later, okay?"

She brought Dean two pills with a bottle of water. He sat up enough to take them before lying back down. She returned to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a few bandages.

Dean watched her as she cleaned the blood from his face and gently bandaged his cuts.

"You're pretty good at this," he said.

Her hands stilled for a moment as she smoothed a bandage over his eye. He picked up on her hesitation.

"Sorry... did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just... you get good at this when you've had practice."

"And who have you practiced on?"

"Myself," she said, not really looking him in the eye.

Dean gently grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from his face. "That guy I ran off?"

"Yeah... What's your name?"

"You changing the subject?"

"Yes," she said with a small smile.

"Dean Winchester. You?"

"Mackenzie Langford." She smiled when Dean made a face. "You can call me Kinsey."

Dean smiled in return and closed his eyes as she finished up with his face and started cleaning the cut on his hand.

"So, what happened to you?" she asked.

"Got beat up."

"Yeah, I figured. What happened?"

"What kind of name is Mackenzie?" he asked.

"Changing the subject?" she asked with a smile.

"Actually, I should leave."

Dean sat up, but Kinsey put a hand to his chest.

"You should rest. You nearly fell down the stairs."

"I'll be okay."

Dean stood and walked toward the door. With the door open, and his hand on the knob, he turned back to her. "Thanks for the patch job."

"You're welcome."

"I guess this makes us even," he said.

"Not quite," she said with a slight chuckle. "You know, you may have saved my life that night. He was really mad."

"Yeah, well, I say we're even. And if that guy ever comes back, you know where I live."

"Thanks, Dean." She tossed him a bandage. "For your hand... Oh, and, uh... no whiskey with the pain killers, okay?"

Dean looked down at the floor as he laughed. "Got it. No whiskey tonight."

"Good night."

Dean nodded and closed the door behind him. He waited until he heard her locks slip into place, then went into his apartment. He lay down on his cot and closed his eyes. As he began to drift off to sleep he could feel Kinsey's hands on his face. He shook his head and turned onto his side. He hadn't been with a woman since before Sam died. He had no place for it anymore. He had no place for Kinsey. He had to put any thought of her out of his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean stayed home the next day. His muscles were sore, the cut above his eye swelled a bit, and his hand hurt horribly. A day or two to rest up and heal, and he would redo his devil's trap and pick up with his interrogations.

That evening, there was a knock at his door. He looked trough the peephole, saw Kinsey, and quickly opened the door.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Fine. I wanted to check your bandages... especially your hand."

"They're fine."

"Look," she said with a smile, "I have closure issues, okay? I started the bandaging and you left before I could finish. It's been bothering me all day." She motioned back to her apartment. "Two minutes, then you can leave."

Dean hesitated, staring over at her door. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "Give me a minute and I'll be over."

She smiled as she turned to leave, and Dean closed the door. He had been cleaning his knife and putting things away. He shoved everything back into the closet and ran his hands through his hair.

Why did he agree?

He grabbed his keys and locked the door behind him. He was at Kinsey's door with just a few strides, and he knocked.

"Come in," she said, as she opened the door.

He walked in and looked around for the first time. She had the same kind of open apartment as he did, but she had decorated so that the room seemed to be divided into definable spaces: kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom. The dining room caught his attention. There were two place settings at her table. He glanced up at her and saw a blush rise up into her cheeks.

"I thought you might wanna have dinner. Something tells me you don't get home cooked meals too often."

"I don't think-"

"You can think it over while I check your hand. Okay?"

Dean nodded and sat on the sofa while Kinsey got a clean bandage for his hand. He sank into the cushions. Much more comfortable than his cot. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but they flew open when he felt Kinsey sit next to him. She unwrapped his bandage and held his hand in one of hers while the fingers of her other hand gently traced the outline of the wound. Dean winced, and she shook her head.

"This could probably use a couple of stitches," she said.

"I'll be okay. I've had worse."

She looked into his eyes and stared for a moment, "I believe you have." She looked back down to his hand. "This needs to be cleaned again. Come with me."

She held onto his wrist as she led him into the small bathroom. They stood at the sink as she first washed the wound with soap and water, then poured peroxide over it.

"I know you're not supposed to put this on anything deep, but I think it's safer than not doing it," she said as the liquid bubbled on Dean's skin.

He sucked in a breath. "It's okay. I do it all the time."

After his hand dried, she put on an antibiotic cream and the new bandage. As she wrapped the bandage, around his hand, she talked.

"You asked me a question yesterday, and I changed the subject."

"That's okay," Dean said. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No... after the way you stepped in, I think you deserve to hear it." She glanced up at him and he nodded. "I've never really had luck with guys. Every guy I've ever been with has turned out to be a jerk. One actually stole from me. The man you ran off was my fiancé, Ethan. I was with him for almost two years before he proposed, and he seemed like the perfect guy. So, when he asked me to marry him, I said yes. He started getting really clingy. He called all the time, wanting to know where I was and who I was with. I wasn't allowed to talk to any of my guy friends anymore. My friend, Jason, called one night just to see how I was... Ethan hit me."

"Jealous bastard," Dean muttered under his breath.

"He immediately started crying and kissing me and telling me he was sorry... It seemed sincere, but I guess when I stayed, he figured he could get away with it more often. It happened occasionally at first, and then once or twice a week... then once or twice a day. I left. I ran. I thank God we weren't married. I tried to get a restraining order, but I never had any proof that he was the one hitting me. He covered himself well. I've moved twice now, and he's found me each time. I'm tired of running."

"Well, you could file for a restraining order now. You have a witness."

Kinsey smiled at him. "Thanks, but something tells me you don't like cops."

"What makes you say that?"

"As badly as you were hurt... no hospital?"

Dean just shrugged. Kinsey finished wrapping the bandage around Dean's hand. "All done," she said. "What about dinner?"

Dean looked into her eyes. They were almost pleading with him to stay. He was already way more involved than he wanted to be, with anyone, but he couldn't find it in him to tell her no.

"I'll stay."

"Good," she said as she stood. She motioned to the table. "Have a seat, and I'll grab the food."

They ate in silence, but, if Dean was honest with himself, he enjoyed just having another person there. He had a feeling Kinsey felt the same way. He devoured the food, and waited for her to finish. He stood with his plate, but she put a hand on his.

"I'll get that later... just sit."

Dean put the plate down, but didn't sit. He walked over to a window and looked out. He saw his car. A small smile pulled at his lips when he remembered Kinsey's face looking down at him from this window. The smile faded when he felt her presence behind him.

"I don't know what you're going through," she said softly, "but I know the look in your eyes. I've seen it in the mirror. Pain, sadness... loneliness. I may not be able to help with the pain or the sadness, but you don't have to be alone, Dean." She reached out and ran a hand down his arm. Dean turned around to face her.

"You won't end your bad luck streak with me, Kinsey. It's better for everyone if I'm alone."

"It's not better for you. People need human contact. People need some kind of affection. Even dinner tonight... just sitting quietly with another person... I felt less alone." She took his uninjured hand in hers. "I'm tired of being alone," she said.

Dean had unconsciously closed the gap between them. His face moved closer to hers, his lips hovering just beyond her reach. His mind yelled at him to leave. He couldn't afford to get involved. He was involved too much as it was.

"I'm not what you need," he whispered. "I can't promise you anything."

"I'm not asking for promises. Aren't you tired of being alone? Don't you want a little comfort?"

Dean leaned down and kissed Kinsey's neck. His tongue ran over her skin and he felt her fingers in his hair. He groaned as his hands ran over the curves of her body. Was it possible that he had forgotten the feel of a woman beneath his hands? Had it been that long?

He began to ache as he kissed and licked his way around her neck and jaw. He felt her hands travel over his chest, back, and shoulders, and he thought of how badly he wanted to feel her skin against his. He quickly removed his shirt and returned his lips to her neck. His good hand buried itself in her hair, holding her head close. The other hand was pressed against her back.

Kinsey turned her head, trying to capture Dean's lips with her own, but he pulled away, only to return his lips to her neck. He slowly began to move her toward the bed, around a folding partition that gave her 'bedroom' a little privacy, until her legs were pressed against it. He removed her clothes, and watched as she moved onto the bed while he removed his.

His hand and mouth found her breasts. His tongue worked expertly, causing her breathing to become ragged. His lips worked their way back up to her neck and he entered her slowly. Kinsey's mouth fell open, and Dean watched as her eyes fluttered shut. His slow movements didn't last as his need for release overtook him. He knew that she must have been feeling it, too, because her body began to spasm around him, pushing him over the edge.

Dean rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. His body was satisfied, but his mind was racing. He was stupid and careless. He had let his hormones take over. He got out of the bed and gathered his clothes.

"I should go," he said. He couldn't look Kinsey in the eyes as he got dressed.

"Dean," she said as he headed for the door. "It's okay. I'm here if you ever need to talk... or not talk."

He looked up to see her standing by the partition, wrapped in her sheets.

"Thanks for dinner," he said, then closed the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean avoided Kinsey for the next few weeks. Each time he left his apartment, he checked through the peephole to make sure he was clear. He tried to get back at times he knew Kinsey wouldn't be home, or would likely be asleep.

Back at the warehouse, he fixed the devil's trap. It looked like it had gotten worn from his dragging bodies over it. The rubber soles of shoes and harsh jean materials likely wore down the paint. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He started lifting the bodies out of the trap before dragging them away. And he carefully checked it each day before he began, when he had the best light.

Avoiding Kinsey didn't last forever. He eventually ran into her in the foyer. She was checking her mail as he came in. It was after ten at night. A little late to be checking the mail. She must have seen the surprise on his face, because she forced a small smile and held up her mail.

"I forgot to get it on my way in."

Dean gave her a slight nod and silently went up the stairs. Inside his apartment, he locked the door and leaned back against it. He listened as she came up the stairs, and her footsteps stopped. There was silence for a brief moment before the footsteps continued past his door, then he heard hers open and close. She had definitely paused at his door. Did she stop to knock and change her mind? Did she see the shadow of his feet and think he was watching her? Or did she simply stop to read a piece of mail, or some other of a thousand random reasons completely unrelated to him?

Why should he care at all that she stopped?

Because he didn't want her to stop at his door. He couldn't open himself up to another person. He had a mission. She would just get in the way.

More weeks passed as Dean's pile of bodies grew to require a second large closet at the warehouse. He was growing more frustrated each day as the demons he summoned told him nothing. He wasn't expecting this day to be any different as the second demon appeared.

He went through the routine. Jake? Azazel? The demon never heard of either of them.

"I don't know those guys, but if Sam is dead, you should make a deal."

"Tried that, you idiot. Your little red-eyed buddies wouldn't deal. They don't want me."

"You sure about that?"

"You see Sam anywhere?"

"When was the last time you tried? Maybe something's changed."

"Like what?"

The demon grew suddenly quiet, causing Dean's anger to almost boil over.

"Like what?" Dean repeated, louder.

"I've said too much already. You should just make the deal."

"Bull. Talk."

"I can't."

"Oh, you can... and you will."

Dean grabbed a tire iron and knocked the demon to the floor. As the demon tried to get up, Dean carried a chair into the trap and quickly tied the demon to it.

Once he was back outside of the trap, Dean pulled out the demon knife and played with it.

"Ready to talk?"

"Why should I?"

"Most of you black-eyed bastards seem to recognize this knife... you tell me?"

The demon focused on the knife and its eyes grew wide, but it didn't waiver.

"Go ahead. Kill me. It's better than going back to Hell... especially if I talk."

"Oh, but you see," Dean said with a smirk, "I found out something fun about this knife. Just like a regular knife with a human, it only kills if you stick it in the right places. That doesn't mean it won't hurt like hell if you stick it somewhere else."

Dean walked to the edge of the trap and waved the knife in the air.

"So," he said, "what's changed? Why do they want me now?"

The demon looked away and lightly shook his head in defiance. His lips were pressed tightly together. Dean jammed the knife into the demon's leg and let it scream.

"What's changed?"

"Go to hell!"

"I tried to, and they didn't want me. Why do they want me now?"

"No," the demon replied, shaking its head.

Dean grabbed the knife and slowly twisted it. The demon fought against the restraints, but the trap made him weak. It screamed and cursed. Dean pulled the knife from his leg and thrust it in again.

"Okay!" the demon screamed. "Okay!"

Dean pulled the knife out and wiped the blade on a towel nearby.

"Talk."

"Your dad..." The demon seemed to fight for air after his screaming.

"What about him?"

"They wanted your dad."

"Old news. What for?"

"He was supposed to break."

"What are you talking about?"

"They don't have him anymore."

"Dad's not in Hell?"

"No... he climbed out when the Hell gate opened."

Dean almost smiled. That was his dad. Defiant to the last. A survivor. "What do you mean he was supposed to break."

"He was being tortured. After a while, he was offered a deal. If he would torture other souls, his torture would stop. Every day, that was the offer."

"He never took it."

"No."

"And now he's out. What's that got to do with me?"

"They want to make you the same offer."

"Why? What's the catch?"

The demon looked down and shook his head again.

"You want me to plunge this knife somewhere more sensitive than your leg?"

"Seals!"

"What?"

"It has to do with seals, like locks. You taking the offer to torture would break the first one."

"How many are there?"

"Hundreds... but they don't all have to be broken."

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"What happens when they break?"

"I don't know."

"Bull! What's the end game?"

"I don't know! They don't tell us everything, just bits and pieces as we need to know. There are few who know the whole plan, and you likely won't catch them in your trap."

Dean stalked back and forth in front of the demon, trying to process what he had been told. As he paced, the demon sighed.

"Just kill me. I've told you everything I know. If you exorcise me I'm worse than dead."

"With pleasure," Dean said. He plunged the knife into the demon's chest and watched the flickering light.

The ride back to his apartment went by in a blur as he considered what the demon told him. He could get Sam back now, but at what cost? What was waiting on the other side of those seals? Could he survive an eternity of torture? The odds of him escaping like his dad did were slim. Extremely slim.

Tears stung his eyes, and he gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. He parked his car and sat there, no longer sure of anything, except his revenge.

As he climbed the stairs, he looked through the railing to Kinsey's door. He pulled out his key, and was about to insert it into the lock, but he shoved it back into his pocket. He walked with purpose to Kinsey's door and knocked. She opened it a moment later.

"Dean, what-"

Before another word escaped her lips, Dean bent slightly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her off the ground. His mouth went straight to her neck.

She fumbled with the door and locks before he walked to the bed and almost threw her onto it. He quickly shed his clothes, and she followed his lead. He crawled over her, licking and kissing his way back up to her neck before he plunged into her. Her nails dug into his arms as he held her hips in place, pulling them toward him with each thrust. She cried out as he kept going, the pleasure mixing with his anger and frustrations, pushing him toward a release that finally came.

The release was a full one. He lay there on top of Kinsey, with his face buried in her neck. Everything inside of him broke, and tears slipped from his eyes. She felt the tears fall onto her skin.

"Dean?"

He couldn't hold back. A sob escaped and he could no longer hold his weight above her. He lay to her side and wrapped his arms around her, crying into the crook of her neck. She tried to pull back a little, but he held her tighter.

"It's okay, Dean... I've got you. You're okay."

She gently ran her fingers through his hair, holding him until he fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke in the middle of the night, still wrapped completely in Kinsey's arms. He knew he should leave. He was more than a little embarrassed by his emotional breakdown. Thoughts of quietly sneaking from her apartment came to mind, but there was a part of him that wanted to stay, to feel a connection with another person. Kinsey had done that for him. She held him all night, and not once did he feel like she was judging him or that she thought less of him because of his tearful display.

A soft light still on in the kitchen area allowed Dean to make out Kinsey's features in the dark. He let his eyes scan over her face, and he realized just how beautiful she was. He hadn't even taken the time before to notice.

He thought about the guy he had run off. Ethan, her ex-fiancé. How could he hit this woman? Dean stared at her. She was right, they both needed comfort, and they could give that to each other.

Another realization hit him as he stared at her lips. He hadn't kissed her yet. They had been together twice, and not once did his lips touch hers. He hadn't wanted to. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew if he kissed her he would be involved, and he didn't want to be involved. He would hold on to that. Maybe if he didn't kiss her she would understand, this was all about comfort and convenience.

It didn't stop him from wanting her. His eyes scanned over her body, covered by the sheet, and he had an overwhelming urge to touch her. With his hand beneath the sheet, he ran his hand over her, from her hip, down her leg and back again. He continued up until he reached her breast. He gently squeezed and let his thumb brush over her. He felt himself grow hard at the thought of taking it into his mouth. Still on their sides, he lifted her leg and draped it over his hip, then slowly filled her. Forcing himself to remain still, he leaned down and flicked his tongue over her nipple before surrounding it with his lips.

Kinsey moaned lightly, and shifted in her sleep. The movement got to Dean and he slowly began to move inside of her, continuing the attention to her breast. Kinsey's eyes opened and her hands gripped him, trying to push away, until she registered what was happening. She was hit with every sensation at once as her hands sank into his short hair. She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and his lips traveled up to her neck. Without separating, he rolled her onto her back. Kinsey kissed and licked his neck, moaning and whispering his name. He tilted her hips, driving deeper inside of her, causing her to gasp with each stroke.

Dean's thrusts continued until they were both satisfied. He rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. Kinsey lay on her side next to him, kissing his neck, trying to catch her breath.

"That's an interesting way to wake up," she said.

"I couldn't help myself," Dean said. "You're a sexy woman."

"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't leave."

"I thought about it... but I thought about what you said, about people needing human contact. I guess I still needed that."

"Now that you got what you need... are you staying or leaving?"

Dean looked her in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay with this arrangement? Going to each other for a little comfort?"

"I was the one who brought it up, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then, shut up," she said with a smile. "I just wanna know if you're staying."

"Your bed's more comfortable than mine," he said sinking back into the pillow. "I'll stay awhile longer."

She kissed his neck a few times before moving to turn away from him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his side, putting her hand on his chest.

"Human contact," he said.

"Human contact."

Dean awoke a couple of hours later and slipped out of bed. He got dressed and went back to his apartment to lie down for a another hour or so before he went to the warehouse.

The next couple of days went by without him seeing Kinsey. His interrogations weren't getting him anywhere, but he wasn't getting overly frustrated. He was tired more than anything. He would get back to his apartment, shower, and lie down. Sleep, sometimes, never came.

He got home one night after another wasted day. He had just walked in and removed his jacket when there was a knock at the door. He checked through the peephole and saw Kinsey standing there. The door was barely open and Kinsey's lips were on his. She grabbed the lapels of his open flannel shirt, pulling him close. She finally pulled back and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'll understand if you're busy, but I had a crap day and I just wanna feel good."

Dean pulled her inside and attacked her neck. She shoved his flannel shirt from his shoulders and he shrugged it off.

"Bed," she whispered."

That stopped Dean in his tracks. "Oh... yeah, ummm..."

He pointed to the cot and Kinsey made a face.

"That's not gonna work. You wanna come back to my place?"

"Okay," Dean said with a smile. "I'll lock up and head over." He leaned over and kissed her neck, letting his tongue drag along.

Kinsey groaned and made herself pull away. "Don't be long."

Dean picked up his weapons and left his apartment, locking the door behind him. He walked the short distance to Kinsey's door and knocked. The door flew open and she pulled him in. Her lips came toward his, but this time he was ready. He tilted his head so that he had access to her neck. Their clothes were soon discarded and they were tangled together on the bed, pushing each other over the edge.

Dean lay on his back, with Kinsey curled against his side. She kissed his neck as her hand played in his hair. Dean rubbed her arm, his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of her lips on him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's a two-way street, babe. You needed attention."

"Yes, I did."

"I know what bad days can do to you. Sex is a great release."

"Especially when the other person is an expert," she said with a smile.

"I wouldn't call myself an expert," Dean said with a grin.

"You should have a Masters degree."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well... you're pretty awesome, yourself."

"I like this arrangement," she said.

"Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed. Dean and Kinsey continued their arrangement, seeing each other occasionally. Dean's demon interrogations went on as usual, until he finally caught a break.

Dean had to knock this demon out and tie her to a chair. She wasn't cooperating, but Dean would make her. He began his persuasion with the demon knife. The demon screamed, swinging her head violently, trying to test her restraints. For almost an hour she fought, but Dean was relentless. She finally broke.

"I know where Jake is. Okay? I know." Her breaths came out quick and harsh as her screaming quieted.

"Where?"

"There's an apartment building on 2nd Avenue... Sheridan Court. Third floor."

"Why does Azazel have him just waiting around?"

She glared at him, almost defiantly, as if she would refuse to answer, but she didn't. "John was supposed to break in Hell."

"Yeah, I know all this. When he breaks, a seal breaks, blah, blah, blah. What's behind the seals?"

"Lucifer."

"What?"

"Azazel is trying to raise Lucifer."

"And one soul agreeing to torture another in Hell is what starts that process?"

"Not just anyone... a righteous man."

"You're telling me dad was considered righteous?"

"He fought so-called 'evil,' so, yeah."

"So, when Dad got out..."

"The plans came to a screeching hault. There aren't many righteous men in Hell," the demon said, her voice filled with sarcasm.

"That's why the other demon told me I should try to make a deal again. You guys need me now to start the chain."

When the demon just nodded, Dean got back on track. "How many demons are guarding Jake?"

"There are demons all over this city," she scoffed.

"I know. How many are assigned specifically to Jake?"

"Two, but others are close... and he's got powers. He's strong. He doesn't even need those guards."

"I know all about those powers, sweetheart," he spit out. "Does he ever leave that apartment, or is he on lockdown?"

"He leaves, occasionally."

"Routines?"

"People usually bring him food every day... Lunch and dinner."

The final piece of information Dean got out of her was the apartment number. Her body joined the others.

Back at his apartment, Dean lay on his cot, planning. He would have to carefully watch the building Jake was in, keeping an eye out for faces that appeared on a regular basis. He'd have to establish some sort of routine before he even thought about setting foot in that building alone. Seeing Jake coming and going would be his jackpot... if it was routine.

He found a place he could park his car during the day and go unnoticed. He watched everyone, not knowing who on the street might be a demon keeping watch. He watched late into the night, until he couldn't keep his eyes open. He decided to head back to his apartment, not sure if cops patrolled the area. He didn't want to get caught sleeping in the car.

Four hours of sleep and he was back in his spot with a hot cup of coffee. He saw a couple of faces that looked familiar from the day before. He marked the times they left or entered the building, along with some key features of their physical appearance.

Another night of four hours of sleep, and another day of watching. That night, after the street quieted down, Dean began to doze off in the car. He was in that half-awake, half-asleep state where dreams begin.

Kinsey's face floated in front of him. He was remembering their last time together. It was the week before. Dean had a particularly awful day with interrogations and he wanted nothing more than to put his fist through something. He decided to visit Kinsey instead. She had picked up on his tension right away, and immediately removed his pants. When Dean felt her mouth on him, his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open.

Dean was suddenly awake. The memory of Kinsey was still very vivid. He decided to head back to his apartment. Maybe stop by Kinsey's for a quick bit of fun.

He knocked on her door and when she opened it, his hand went to her cheek, which was covered in a bruise.

"What the hell happened?"

Kinsey burst into tears and fell into Dean's arms. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands up and down her back.

"Did Ethan do this?"

"Yes. He only left because his phone rang. He said he'd be back."

"Why are you still here? Why didn't you find somewhere to go?"

"I don't have anywhere to go, Dean."

"Yes, you do." He pulled her away, holding her at arms length so she would look at him. "I want you to wait in my apartment. I'll wait here for Ethan."

"No... Dean, I don't want you to do anything you-"

"I'm just gonna make sure he doesn't touch you again. Here's my key. Let yourself in and lock the door. I'll come and get you."

"Dean-"

"It's okay. I'll only touch him if he touches me first."

Dean watched as Kinsey closed his door behind her, and listened for the lock to click into place. Even if Kinsey looked out through his peephole, she would only be able to see Dean if he stood in the doorway of her apartment. He pulled one of her kitchen chairs over and lined it up with the door. When Ethan came in, he would be staring right at Dean. Dean left her door unlocked, pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, and sat in the chair. Waiting.

Dean heard Ethan as he came up the stairs. He decided to stand. He pointed the gun at the door, as Ethan flung it wide open. He had a nasty grin on his face, which soon faded at the sight of Dean.

"You've got two choices," Dean said. "You leave now, and never come back. You never touch her... never even think about her again. Or I shoot you between the eyes, you sick son-of-a-bitch."

Ethan tried to keep up his cocky air, but Dean saw the fear in his eyes. The color slightly drained from his face, and he began backing away. Men like him were cowards.

"That's it," Dean said. "I wanna see you walk down those stairs." Dean put the gun in his jacket pocket. "My finger's still on the trigger, so don't get any ideas."

Dean followed behind Ethan as he walked down the stairs and out to his car. He stood in the doorway of the foyer and watched Ethan drive off. As he walked back to Kinsey's apartment, he had a feeling that she was watching, so he held up a finger to his door.

"Stay there."

He went back to her apartment, put her chair back in its proper place, and put the safety on his gun, leaving it in his jacket. He went back to his apartment and knocked. He heard the locks and Kinsey came out.

"How did you get him to leave?"

"Don't worry about it. I can't guarantee he won't come back, but he knows I mean business." Dean stared at the bruise on her cheek. He now noticed a small cut in the center of it. "Come on," he said. Let's get you taken care of."

He locked up his apartment and they went back to hers. He took her arm to guide her toward the sofa, and she winced, sucking a breath in through her teeth. Dean quickly pulled his hand away and pulled up her shirt sleeve. Shades of purple and green formed the shape of a hand.

"Damn it," he whispered. "Where else?"

Lily slowly lifted her shirt and turned a bit. A purple mark was spreading across her rib cage beneath her breast. Dean felt himself growing angrier and angrier. He should have just shot the bastard.

"Sit down," he said softly, motioning to the sofa. "Where are your towels?" he asked as he hung his jacket on the back of one of her chairs.

"In the closet outside the bathroom."

Dean filled a small bowl with warm water and got a clean wash cloth. He also found bandages in the closet, so he grabbed one. He soaked the cloth in the water and squeezed the excess from it.

He held the uninjured side of her face with one hand while he cleaned the cut on her cheek.

"This seems a little familiar," Kinsey said, trying to smile.

"Not quite the same."

Kinsey closed her eyes. Dean felt her lean into his hand, then her hand came up to his, holding it against her face.

"Your hands are so gentle," she said.

A tear slipped from her eye, and Dean brushed it away with his thumb. He finished cleaning her cut.

"I'm gonna need both hands to put the bandage on."

Kinsey release him and opened her eyes, staring into his as he put the bandage on her cheek.

"There," he said. "All done."

"You saved my life tonight, Dean. He would have killed me."

"You really shouldn't stay here."

"There's no where for me to go. Besides, he'd find me. At least I have you here."

"I'd love to give that bastard a taste of his own medicine."

Kinsey looked down at her hands in her lap. "Why'd you come here tonight?"

"Doesn't matter. You need to rest."

"Will you stay?"

"I'll stay. Let me clean this up first."

He found her laundry basket and threw in the washcloth. The bowl went into the kitchen sink after he dumped out the water. When he walked back to the sofa, he found Kinsey nodding off. He figured the adrenaline of the night was finally wearing off. Now that she was relaxed, she was crashing. He gently lifted her up, trying to avoid her bruises, and carried her to the bed. When he put her down, she rolled onto her side and sat up with a gasp. She touched her bruised side.

"Get comfortable," Dean said. "I'll hold you so you don't turn."

She found a position that avoided laying on any of her bruises, and Dean slowly scooted next to her. His arms wrapped around her carefully and pulled her close.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Shhh... just sleep."


	8. Chapter 8

Kinsey knew she couldn't go into work with the bruises on her face and arm. She called in sick and said she might be out for a few days. Dean didn't want to leave her alone, especially if there was any chance that creep, Ethan, would come back.

Dean stayed at her apartment for a few days. He went home to shower and change, but he spent each night holding Kinsey in bed. During the day, Dean wanted her to rest, but she insisted on doing things around the apartment. He tried to help her as much as he could. They didn't do too much talking, but Dean did bring up her leaving again as he watched her from the sofa one day. She told him then that she had no family. Both of her parents had died. She had one uncle, but he had died just a couple of years before. He never married and had no kids. She was completely on her own.

"I know how that feels," Dean admitted.

Kinsey stopped what she was doing and stared at him. Her eyes bore into his until he had to look away.

"Who did you lose?" she asked.

"Everyone. My mom died when I was four. Dad died a couple years ago after a bad car accident. My brother..." His voice trailed off, and he bit his lip. Kinsey came and sat next to him, placing a hand on his leg. "My brother," he continued, "was murdered last year."

"I'm so sorry. Did they catch the person responsible?"

Dean scoffed, "No... the only people I had left, a few friends that knew my dad, I pushed away after my brother's death. A while later, I got word they had all died in some freak accident."

"Dean... I'm so sorry."

He had left out all the stuff about demons. They were what was responsible for his family's deaths. He also left out Jake, and his plan for revenge.

Dean felt Kinsey's arm on his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

He managed to give her a small smile. "You're doing it. Our arrangement has kept me from going down a really dark road." She smiled and a light blush rose into her cheeks. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. "With the apartment, I mean."

"Actually, there's a very slow leak under the kitchen sink. I have a bowl to catch the water, and I empty it every couple of days. Think you could fix it?"

"Doesn't hurt to try. Got a tool kit?"

Kinsey retrieved a very basic tool kit. It might be all he needed for the job. He had things in his car if it wasn't enough.

By the time Kinsey was ready to start making dinner, Dean was still fiddling with the pipes. She told him not to worry about it, but Dean said he was almost done.

"If I don't start dinner now, we won't eat until late."

"I'll go pick something up."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, no big deal. Almost finished here."

An hour later, Dean was back with food. They ate with almost no conversation. Dean helped her clean up, then went back to his apartment to shower and change.

As he held Kinsey that night, he felt something different. He looked down at her, her eyes closed, and he slowly leaned toward her. He gently kissed her lips, just lightly pressing against them. Kinsey's eyes opened, and Dean kissed her again, more urgently. She kissed him back, and a small whimper escaped her lips.

Dean pulled back, leaning over her as he stared into her eyes. Her hands went to his face, and her thumb slowly brushed over his lips.

"Kiss me again," she whispered.

He leaned in slowly and the kiss lingered for several minutes before hands started to roam. He helped her sit up and remove her shirt, carefully avoiding the fading bruise on her rib cage. With no bra in his way, he lay her back down and kissed down her neck and chest. He let his lips lightly brush over her bruise, and she took in a shaky breath. He continued his path downward and removed her pajama pants and underwear. Their eyes locked as he stood from the bed and quickly removed his own clothes, then he found his way back to her lips.

He tried to remember why he hadn't kissed her before. The question quickly vanished as he rolled them over, putting Kinsey on top. She smiled as they kissed. Supporting her weight on her forearms, her fingers played in his hair as his hands roamed up and down her back. He eventually slipped a hand between them and found her breast, causing her to gasp, then let out a low moan as he gently massaged.

That was all Dean could take. He rolled them over once more, and he entered her slowly. He found it hard to take his lips from hers, even as he moved in and out. Each time he began to trail down her neck, he was soon back to her lips. The kissing became feverish as pleasure washed over them both, and they completely gave in.

Dean held her afterward. There was a feeling of contentment he hadn't felt in a long time. When he realized what the feeling was, he felt guilty. He shouldn't be content. Not with Sam dead. Not with Jake moving feely. Not with Yellow-eyes out there trying to free Lucifer.

Still, that was what he felt.

Kinsey lay at his side, and he gently pulled her on top of him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Slowly and deeply. He heard her sigh, and make contented little hums as they continued to kiss.

She was the one who broke the kiss. Her lips went down his jaw to his neck. When she pulled away, she placed one more kiss to his chin, then looked into his eyes.

"Something's changed," she said.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You let me know when you know for sure."

Dean let out a chuckle. "You got it."


	9. Chapter 9

Dean woke before Kinsey. He gently unfolded her from around his body, trying not wake her, and got out of bed. His clothes were soon collected from the floor, and he went into her bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. He was getting too involved. The feeling of contentment he had the night before was proof of that. He couldn't be content. He couldn't get involved. Something changed. Kinsey said it herself. Something had changed that shouldn't have, and now he wondered if it could go back to the way it was. He quietly made his way back to his apartment. Kinsey would get up soon since she was heading back to work. Dean would be gone before she did.

He picked up with his surveillance again. For three days, he sat outside of Jake's apartment building. A few familiar faces came and went periodically. Demons. Dean was sure of it. They didn't stay long, and he recognized them easily.

That evening, just before sunset, four men came out. One was a demon he recognized who came and went every other day. Two of the others were burly, and flanked the fourth man, standing slightly behind him. A tall, black man. Jake. Dean watched as Jake laughed with the demon, then waved as he left in a taxi. Jake walked toward Dean's direction and turned at the corner, heading down a side street. From Dean's spot he could see Jake a good distance down that street. His thugs followed him, but Jake eventually raised his hand, and the two demons seemed to walk into an invisible wall. They stopped in their tracks as Jake kept walking.

Dean wondered how often Jake took these solo trips. Where did he go? He wondered if he would be able to sneak into Jake's apartment while he was gone. He thought about trying it until the two demon goons made their way back inside.

Follow Jake.

Dean turned down the side street, but Jake wasn't anywhere in sight. He slowly rolled down the street, looking down each side road he passed. No Jake. So, Dean went back to his spot and waited. Jake came back around midnight.

After another uneventful hour, Dean decided to go back to his apartment. There was a piece of paper taped to his door. He pulled it off and read,

"Please come see me.  
-K."

Dean ran a hand over his face. He hadn't seen Kinsey since he snuck out that morning. He didn't want to talk about why he left without saying anything. He didn't want to talk about what had changed. Why did she want to see him? He decided it was just best to get it over with. He might have to hurt her, but what else could he do? He couldn't afford more than the casual, need-meeting exchanges they had agreed upon.

He knocked on her door and waited. After a moment, she opened the door.

"You're late," she said.

"What's up?" Dean tried to appear uninterested.

Kinsey hooked a finger through a belt loop on Dean's jeans and pulled him into her apartment. Once he was inside, she worked to open the button and pulled down the zipper.

"I had one of the worse days I've had in a long time, and I just want to forget about it."

Her hand sunk into the front of his jeans as she kissed his lips. He thought about pulling out of the kiss, and going back to not kissing her, but the fact was that he liked it. Why stop?

"Make me forget," she whispered against his lips.

She gently rubbed him through his boxers and felt him grow harder.

"You know," Dean said as he fisted her hair, "they say if you keep your hands busy, your brain doesn't think about other things so much."

"Is that so?"

"That's what I hear."

She hooked through his belt loop again and pulled him to the sofa. After pulling his jeans and boxers to his ankles, she pushed him down to sit. He had a small grin on his face as she straddled his legs and took him in her hands. Dean moaned, and his hands began to squeeze her breasts through her clothes.

"It's not fair that you're still totally dressed," he said.

She lightly brushed her thumb over the tip of him and he sucked in a breath.

"I was the one with the bad day," she said. "I should get what I want."

"Sounds fair to me," Dean said.

Dean ran his hands up and down her pajama-clad thighs, squeezing gently as he went. Kinsey slowly stroked him and watched his eyes flutter closed. When his mouth fell open, she ran her tongue along his full bottom lip before kissing him deeply.

Without stopping the movement of her hands, she stood. She used her knees to coax Dean's legs apart. He kicked off his shoes and the clothes that were left around his ankles. Kinsey knelt in front of him and stared into his eyes. When her mouth finally enveloped him, his hips thrust forward and his hands sank into her hair, trying to pull her head closer. He felt her tongue glide over him and it made his entire body shudder. After a few minutes, she removed her mouth and kissed the inside of his thighs.

"You still want me naked?" she asked.

"Hell yeah."

Kinsey stood and quickly removed all of her clothes. Dean took the opportunity to remove his shirts. As she moved to straddle him again, Dean took her breast into his mouth and pushed himself into her. He held her tight as he thrust up, over and over. Faster and faster. Her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, pressing her chest into his face. He loved every second of it. He licked and sucked until they both could take no more.

Kinsey lay against Dean, their bodies still connected, for several minutes. His hands glided up and down her thighs, soothingly as she kissed his neck. When she finally sat up, Dean put his hand behind her head and pulled her into a kiss. She began rolling her hips, causing him to moan against her lips.

"Think you can go again?" she whispered.

He let out a growl, and she felt him harden again as she continued to grind against him. She let out a low moan at the sensation, and Dean smiled.

"I think you have your answer."


	10. Chapter 10

Dean was surprised at how easily he and Kinsey slipped back into their original agreement. He stopped spending the night, and they hooked up once or twice every week or two. She never brought up the change she sensed that night, or asked why he went back to the old way. They just were. They continued on as they started, and it worked for them.

Dean continued his surveillance and, after a few weeks, he found that Jake left every Saturday night. It was always roughly the same time. Dean had his plan in place. He would find his way into the building, hide out in the stairwell on Jake's floor, and wait for him and his thugs to leave. He knew the other two would be back, so he would have to get into Jake's apartment quickly.

He focused on killing Jake. There would be no talking. He wouldn't bother to tell Jake why he was about to die. Jake was too powerful, and Dean knew it. If he gave Jake even half a chance, Dean might be the one dead in the end.

He gave it one more week. The following Friday night, he knocked on Kinsey's door. If this ended up being his last night alive, he wanted to feel connected. He wanted physical contact. He wanted her.

She answered the door and his lips were on hers. He backed her into the apartment and locked the door without breaking their kiss. His hands cupped her face, then slowly slid down her neck and shoulders. They grazed the sides of her breasts as they went down to her hips, where he squeezed, pulling her closer. Kinsey let her hands roam over his chest, down to the button on his jeans. As she worked it open, Dean grabbed her hands. He pulled back and returned his hand to her face. His thumb lightly brushed over her cheek.

"I wanna go slow," he said.

His voice was deep and soft. Kinsey could only nod as she stared into his eyes. His lips returned to hers as he backed her toward the bed and lay her down. Dean kicked off his shoes and lay at her side, kissing her deeply. His hand stroked her cheek and ran through her hair, while Kinsey's fingers played over the muscles in his arms and shoulders.

Their clothes were leisurely shed until they were skin on skin. Dean savored every inch of her body, leaving no place untouched. They lay there after, her head on his chest, relaxed and satisfied. Dean ran a lazy hand up and down her leg, which was draped over his. The sensation of her fingers brushing lightly over his pec caused a small grin to pull at his lips.

"You mind if I spend the night?"

"Not at all," she answered.

Dean ran a hand through her hair, and an image of that hand in her hair as she stared up at him entered his mind. He couldn't ignore the beginnings of this new arousal. He took her hand from his chest and moved it beneath the sheet, wrapping it around himself. She stroked it once before raising herself up on her elbow to look into his eyes.

"Slow," he said.

They went one more round of slow, sensual pleasure before they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. Dean woke late the next morning to Kinsey kissing and licking his chest.

"Do you have to run off, or do you have time for one more?" She stared at him, her face full of anticipation. Dean checked his watch and did a quick mental checklist. He only needed a couple of hours to prep and get to Jake's building before sunset. It was only a little after ten in the morning.

"What the hell," he grumbled as he pulled her into a hungry kiss.

After her breathing was steady again, Kinsey got out of bed and pulled on her robe. Dean followed soon after, dressing as he collected his clothes from the floor. He walked up to Kinsey in the kitchen area as she began to make breakfast.

"I have to go," he said.

"I kinda figured." She brushed her thumb over his lips, and let her hand linger on his face. "It was a fun night," she said with a smile.

Dean grinned back at her. "Yeah, it was. Fun morning, too."

Her hand slid down his chest as he slowly backed away.

"If I touch you again," he said, "we'll be back in that bed... and I really do have to go."

Kinsey blushed at the admission. "Then you'd better go."

"Bye," he said as he opened the door.

"Bye."

Several hours later, Dean was picking the lock to Jake's apartment. He quickly scanned the layout for the best escape routes, just in case, and the areas where he would have the advantage in a fight. A surprise attack was his best option. He waited behind the door. One possessed thug entered and left the door open as he headed straight for the bedroom. The second one entered and, before he had a chance to notice that Dean was even there, the demon knife sank into his throat, silencing any scream. Dean moved to the wall adjacent to the bedroom door and waited. The demon came out of the bedroom and noticed the body of his dead comrade on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Dean to get the blade into his throat. Once again, screaming was hindered. Dean didn't want to alert any neighbors before Jake got back.

Dean left the bodies where they fell. Hopefully they would distract Jake as the other demon had been distracted. Just long enough to sink the blade into Jake's back.

Dean sat and waited. He kept an eye on the time, knowing Jake usually got back just after midnight. As the time crept closer his hand began to shake. Tonight would be the night he would avenge Sam's death. Months of killing demons and getting nowhere would finally pay off.

Midnight came, and Dean took his place behind the front door. He held his breath when he heard the key in the lock. The door opened, and Jake took a tentative step into the room at the sight of his two fallen body guards. He took one more step, and Dean made his move. He slammed the door shut as he rammed the blade of the demon knife into Jake's back. Jake took in a sharp breath as his body arched in pain. Dean grabbed the knife with both hands, twisted, then sliced to the side before pulling it out. Jake fell to his knees, then to his back. He stared up at Dean with wide eyes as he gasped for breath.

"You killed my brother... I killed you. You don't mess with the Winchesters, you son-of-a-bitch."

Dean suddenly felt as if he were being pushed. His feet rose just slightly off the ground, and he realized that Jake, in his final moments, was trying to to use his powers.

"You lose," Dean said as he knelt down next to Jake and jammed the blade into his neck. With one final gasp, Jake was dead.

Dean casually wiped his prints from the doorknobs as he left the building and went back to his car. The drive back to his apartment was filled with mixed emotions. His adrenaline was still up. He felt the victory of his plan having succeeded, and the bittersweet satisfaction of killing his brother's murderer. Things couldn't have gone better, but it wasn't over. He still had to deal with yellow-eyes. He knew that would be a lot harder, and he was a lot less likely to come out alive.

But he would sleep tonight. The anguish over Sam's death would be put to rest. Never forgotten, but tucked away in a broken corner of Dean's heart.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean decided to lay low for a couple of weeks. Yellow-eyes would definitely be on alert with Jake being killed. He would have no element of surprise at all if he didn't wait a while before making his next move.

He and Kinsey had a couple of nights together, and their arrangement still seemed to be going well. He came home one night from a supply run and found a note taped to his door.

"Come see me.  
-K"

He had gotten notes like this from her before, and it meant good and pleasurable things. He smiled and shoved the note in his pocket. He went into his apartment to pick up what he bought at the store, then locked up before heading across the hall.

When he knocked on the door, it nudged open, and Dean went on alert. Kinsey always locked her door, and now it wasn't even closed tight. He pulled his gun from his waist band, thankful he hadn't left it behind, and slowly pushed the door open. Once he was inside, he saw Kinsey, her eyes red, her cheek bruised, and her lip busted. Standing behind her, with a firm grip on her shoulder and a gun to her head, was Ethan.

"You son-of-a-bitch," Dean growled. "I told you not to come back here."

"Well, Dean," Ethan said, "Ethan didn't have much of a choice."

Confusion flashed across Dean's face before Ethan's eyes turned yellow. Dean was relieved that he had the Colt in his jacket. He had been carrying it ever since he took care of Jake, just in case he came face-to-face with yellow-eyes. The problem was, how would he get it and shoot the bastard without getting Kinsey killed? Now they were in a stand-off. Dean's gun on yellow-eyes, and his gun on Kinsey.

"Dean, Dean, Dean... you killed my man."

"Your man killed my brother."

"Come on, it was all part of the game. Sam lost. I can't tell you how disappointed I was. I was really pulling for that kid. I always liked him."

Dean half-listened as he assessed the situation. Yellow-eyes was standing too close to Kinsey for him to risk a move. He had to get him away from her.

"So," Azazel said, "I settled for Jake. He did win, after all. Showed lots of potential... until you killed him. Now, I have to do this all over again. Well, we both know I like revenge, too. So, I had my people on the look out. And when one of my guys popped into this body," he said as he waved his gun hand in front of Ethan's body, "he saw something very interesting."

"Me," Dean said, annoyed.

"You... and her." He motioned to Kinsey. "Ethan seems to think that you're sleeping with her."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "So, what if I am?"

"Leverage, boy. Leverage. We're gonna make a little deal. I'll give you two things in return for your soul."

"Feeling generous, are we? No thanks."

"You haven't even heard my offer."

"Okay, fine. You wanna hear yourself talk that bad, go for it."

"The small condition first... I'll let her go."

Dean scoffed. "For my soul? You seriously overestimate my relationship with her."

"Oh? Was Ethan wrong about you sleeping with her?"

"No, he wasn't wrong. But I think you know as well as I do that sometimes sex is just sex."

"Really? So, why go all caveman on him when he hit her?"

"Cuz the guy's a douche bag. I'd cap him on principle."

"Are you sure? Because I took a peek inside of her for a minute, too." Azazel leaned into her, inhaling and licking his lips. "She has naughty thoughts about you, Dean. And she's in love with you."

Kinsey flinched and whimpered. She didn't know what Azazel was capable of. All she felt was Ethan's breath on her as he spoke, and it made her sick to her stomach.

Dean's eyes stayed locked with Azazel's. Not once did he even glance at Kinsey. He didn't want to see whatever reaction she may have from his words.

"The feeling's not mutual. And if I'd known, I would have ended it."

"Fine," Azazel said as he shoved Kinsey to the sofa and trained his gun on Dean. "Son, why don't you put the gun down. We both know it won't do any good."

Dean shrugged. "I think I'll keep it here anyway. Who knows, if I don't like the rest of your offer, I may put a bullet in you, anyway."

Azazel snapped his fingers. "Ah! The rest of my offer. I'll bring your precious Sammy back."

Dean hesitated for just a moment, but Azazel noticed.

"That's right, Dean. Your baby brother will be safe and sound, thanks to you. All you have to do is say 'yes.'"

"How long would I get?"

"The same as Daddy. Long enough to see that I kept my end of the bargain."

Dean's face saddened, and he lowered his gun, shifting it to his left hand. "And... how long before Sam becomes your puppet, like Jake?" Azazel cocked his head to the side, and Dean grew angry. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to take that deal? I know your plans. There's no way in Hell I'm going to be tortured just so I can take a deal that will lead to the first step in setting Lucifer free. There's no way I'm gonna let you turn my brother into the leader of some demon army. I'll let him rot in his grave first."

Azazel closed his eyes, and waved his hand quickly through the air. Dean's body jerked as it was lifted from the ground, causing him to drop the gun in his hand. He hit the wall so hard that cracks radiated out from the impact. Dean grunted and tried in vain to push away from the wall.

"I think my delightful banter has made you forget just what I'm capable of. Maybe I should remind you."

Dean began to scream as pain rolled though his entire body. This was the same pain he felt the night yellow-eyes had possessed his dad. The night he almost died. It was a deep, searing pain that Dean was sure only Hell could rival.

"You want off the wall?" Azazel asked as he walked over to Dean. "The price is your soul."

Neither of them saw as Kinsey picked Dean's gun up off the floor. She had never held a gun in her life, but she knew she couldn't let this happen. She put her finger on the trigger, shoved the barrel into Ethan's neck, beneath his jaw, and squeezed.

The force of the shot rocked Azazel, and Dean fell from the wall, but Azazel quickly turned and backhanded Kinsey. The strike sent her to the ground.

The interference was just enough for Dean to grab the Colt and point it at Azazel. Just as Azazel turned back to Dean, the bullet was released and sent the short distance through the air, into the skull of Ethan. A bright orange light flickered, as a look of pure disbelief flashed across his face. The light grew brighter and pulsed faster until Azazel was gone, and Ethan's dead body hit the floor.

Dean stared down at him before collapsing himself. Blood trickled from his mouth, and the pain still rolled in the pit of his stomach. Kinsey rushed to his side as he coughed.

"I'll call the police."

"No."

"Dean, you need a doctor, and Ethan was just shot in the head in my apartment. This doesn't look good. We have to report it."

Kinsey called for police and an ambulance. Dean was taken to the emergency room, but the police kept Kinsey to tell them what happened. When they finally let her go, she went to the hospital to check on Dean.

Dean was rushed into surgery when he arrived, and it would be hours before she could see him. After hearing her story, a doctor insisted on taking care of her busted lip. She was thankful, if for no other reason than it would pass the time.

When she was finally allowed to see Dean, he was still asleep. She sat in a chair next to his bed, and the events of the night finally caught up to her. Exhaustion took over and she, too, fell asleep. It was the sound of Dean's voice that woke her. Raspy and low, he called her name, and she pulled her chair closer.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like I got hit by a truck."

"You had a lot of internal bleeding, but they were able to get you fixed up."

"What did you tell them happened?"

"I told them that you walked in on Ethan beating me, and Ethan attacked you. You shot him self defense."

"But you shot him, too... he'll have two fatal wounds with two different bullets."

"I told them that I wrestled him for the gun, and you pulled another gun from Ethan's waistband. We shot at the same time."

"They believed you?"

"I'm not in jail, am I? Besides, what was I gonna tell them? The truth? I don't even believe the truth."

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

Kinsey glanced down and played with the sheet on the bed before she spoke.

"Dean... did you mean what you told him? About us?"

Dean lifted a hand to her cheek and lightly brushed his thumb over her bruise. Then, he lifted her chin until her eyes met his.

"No. I had to make him think that you didn't mean anything to me. He would have used you against me if he knew how much I really care about you."

"You've had me so confused. Sometimes it felt like more than sex... and other times..."

"I know," Dean said. "It wasn't you. I didn't want to feel anything except anger and pain, because all I wanted was revenge."

"And now that you've gotten it?"

Dean stared at Kinsey for a moment. "I told you once before that your bad luck streak with men wouldn't change with me. That's still true. I just killed the man with the plan. Demons are gonna be coming at me from every direction."

"What if I choose to be with you anyway?"

Dean shook his head, and started to argue, but Kinsey stood and leaned over. With the uninjured corner of her mouth, she kissed Dean gently. He took a deep breath as her hair fell around him, taking in her scent.

"I guess we are pretty awesome together," Dean sighed. He kissed her jaw before she pulled away, and Kinsey smiled.

"Do me a favor?"

"Sure," Dean said.

"Once you're out of here, explain to me what happened... everything."

"I promise."


End file.
